I want you to stand before me. I want to see you turn around, and show me your pretty ass, to bend over a little, placing your hands flat against a wall as you look back over your shoulder at me, as you lick your lips lasciviously. I want you to lift your dress just high enough for me to get the briefest glimpse of your panties, of your thighs as they meet at your cunt.

I want you to turn around to face me, slowly. To lift your dress again, to show me the front view of your thighs and pussy under your panties. (They’re bright white, cotton, today.) I want you to slide your hand under your panties and dip a finger into your cunt for me, to feel whether you’re wet (you are). I want you to touch your clit for just a moment, to bring your finger up to your mouth – no, to my mouth – so I can lick your sweet, salty cunt off of it.

And then, I want you to fix your eyes on mine. I will stroke my hard, hard cock, under my jeans, slowly, determinedly, as you return your finger to your cunt, as you stroke your clit, as you finger yourself while, with your other hand, you keep your dress lifted just high enough to give me a good view of precisely how you touch yourself.

And oh, how you touch yourself!

I want to watch as you bring yourself off for me. Slowly. Slowly. Your eyes never leaving mine, even as your whole body shudders to a climax.